


You Are Mine

by New1Romantic



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2013-06-09
Packaged: 2017-12-14 09:19:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/835277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/New1Romantic/pseuds/New1Romantic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim, despite everyone warning him that it's a bad idea, goes to see Khan, and regrets it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Are Mine

_“They needed my blood, to save you, didn’t they?” A laugh. “You will always be mine, Kirk.”_

The words haunted him. What had possessed him to talk to Khan? He had specifically requested it, he didn’t know why – he just felt the need to speak to him, before he was put in the cryogenic chambers again. He was given less than five minutes, behind a screen in a maximum security cell in a secret Starfleet facility that he wasn’t even allowed to know the way to.

Spock had warned him against it, and rightly so. He knew now that it had been a foolish decision, even more than usual. This, rather than being for the good of the people, was just masochism, pure and simple.

When he returned, he didn’t speak of it. Spock, in a moment of wisdom, chose not to ask him about it either. As such, for the next few days, he spent his time in his rooms. Downtown San Francisco was still in ruin after Khan had plowed the ship in to it, the wreckless last actions of a madman. He hadn’t seen it for himself in all its hell as the other has, as he had been asleep. But the scar still remained, though a great deal of the debris had been removed already. He had seen the images and the videos though, they made him feel sick. Slowly, they were rebuilding, but it was a painful and sad process. The body count was climbing as they dragged more, crushed, bloody bodies from the wreckage.

He had stopped watching the news for that very reason. It reminded him of all the senseless deaths that had happened on his ship, all those people who had been sucked in to space or fallen to their death down floors and floors when the ship had spun out of control. They were on his head.

_“Why, Captain Kirk. I hadn’t expected any visitors.”_

They had all been given a period of leave, to heal from physical and mental injuries. Spock, after he had ascertained that Kirk was alright, (a kind, but unnecessary gesture.) had gone to visit New Vulcan, and he assumed the others had gone to visit their family as well.

So he was alone. Perhaps it wouldn’t have made much difference if they had been here. He wanted to be alone. He could, if he so desired, go to a bar, go find some girls, fuck to his heart’s content. But he couldn’t face any other people. Not right now. It was, he knew, and as others had so usefully pointed out to him, very out of character, but considering all that had happened, he thought he was allowed some time to himself, to reflect and collect himself. That’s what he hoped he was doing anyway.

_“Why are you here?”_

Khan was such a strange man, and terrifying in his savagery. He remembered quite clearly the first time they had met.  The way he moved, with such intention, such power, it made him seem like a god rather than a human. Had he been a lesser man, he probably would have cowered at the sight. Then, as soon as he had come down to them, the veneer of power seemed to be stripped away. There was a desperate look in his eyes, and Jim’s own were clouded by anger.

The way it had felt, to have his hands against his skin, to feel the contact of his fists against the ribs, and the hard muscles, to feel them crumple under his anger, it was pure pleasure, pure release. He did not remember it clearly, just the haze of anger and pleasure, the sounds of breath being sucked in, and gasping. Then a voice had pierced his consciousness, that of Uhura, screaming at him. Everything that happened after that took on a numb haze, hatred, and pent up desire to hurt.

He did not look at John (or Khan, as perhaps he should say) for the rest of the trip back to the ship. He remembered his knuckles were white on the controls, he was gripping them so tightly.

_“To prove that I am alive.”_

_“Am I that important to you that I can affirm your life status for you? I am touched – we hardly know each other.”_

_“Cut the crap. I’m here, so you can see that you hold know power over me. That we won. So much for ‘superior human’.”_

_Laughter._

There is something very terrifying about the human who has been refined and perfected. A human without the imperfections, is a terrifying, savage beast. He had not seen it on the ship, so close but a piece of glass, the madness in his eyes. But, to remember it, and to see it later, the madness had swirled there, in every movement, every time their eyes had met.

Every movement was perfectly considered. He did nothing that wasn’t planned. It was only when he became aware of how far ahead Khan was in this game, that he could even think about catching up. Spock was the one who truly kept up, the one who knew your move in chess before you had made it – something he knew from experience, and this had ended up being Spock’s battle, not his, in the end.

_“Yes, you won. Congratulations for killing 72 innocent men and women, who had not harmed you in any way. Congratulations on killing my family.”_

_“You killed so many; hundreds of people have died because of you. You alone.”_

_“So many people died because of human greed. I sped up the process, and all for a good cause.”_

_“I’ll believe that when hell freezes over.”_

Khan was a beautiful man, as perhaps he had been designed to be. He was not afraid to admit he appreciated beauty in wherever he found it, even in one of the foulest humans he had ever had the misfortune to meet. He was tall and thin, and held himself with the grace of a monarch. His voice was so clear in his mind, resonating. The soft, seductive purr, the voice of manipulation that could fool even the calmest of minds. The harsh, hissing, hate fuelled bark, malice that made him shiver every time he remembered it. There were many things about Khan that he feared, and that haunted his sleep.

_“Tell me… Am I to join them? Is this why you are here, to pass my sentence?”_

_“No. You are not sentenced to death. You are sentenced to sleep. You, yourself, did desire it, I remember your words clearly.”_

_“The federation are too kind.”_

He felt consumed by Khan, by an obsession that he could not control. He would pace, going over the details in his mind. What could he have done differently? He should have been able to save them, yet he did not know how. He had been blinded by his anger and his pain, his desire for revenge, and had thought too brashly. How much of this was his fault? He would dream about it. He would dream about a pair of hands around his throat and a pair of mad blue eyes. He dreamed about the voice every night, and he was ashamed about how much power the man had over him.

_“I did not expect to be alive now. They would not keep me if they did not need me, and I know why they needed me. You were hurt, weren’t you?” Hand against the glass, “They needed my blood, to save you, didn’t they?” A laugh. “You will always be mine, Kirk.”_

_“You will always be mine.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, this is the first story I've posted on AO3 and the first for the Star Trek Alt. fandom. I would appreciate it if you would take the time to leave a comment.


End file.
